


Scratch

by Angel Grace (angel_grace01)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M, Unconventional Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_grace01/pseuds/Angel%20Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing feels better than scratching an itch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratch

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older story I found lurking on my harddrive. I know the format is unusual. Consider it a script of sort.  
> ::words:: are actions  
> *words* are expressions of attitudes or emotions

::scratch::

::scratch::

::scratch scratch::

::scratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratchscratch::

::words blaze across science console::  
“MISTER SPOCK! Stop that at once! The bridge is no place for such displays of indecent behaviour!”

*meekly*  
“Yes Captain.”

::approaching footsteps::

*soft voice*  
“Spock, what’s the matter? It’s unlike you to go… there.”

*whisper*  
“Captain, I seem to be in some… discomfort.”

*in an amused tone*  
“And I know just what kind of discomfort that is, Spock. But this isn’t the place or the time.”

“I am aware of that, Captain. Perhaps I could be relieved from duty early so I might remedy this condition?”

“You want me to…” *indignant sputter* “So you can…” ::broad wave of hand::

::green blood rising to ear tips::  
“Forgive me, Captain. I understand. A mere discomfort should not distract me from my duties. I shall end my shift.”

::sighs::  
“Oh, hell. That’s more than three hours away. It’s been a quiet run. If you really are that uncomfortable, you should go.”

“Captain…”

“No, seriously, Spock. It’s fine. I guess even you can get a chink in the proverbial armour on occasion. Go. Get.”

::rises::  
“Indeed, Captain. I will go get.”

::doors of turbolift swoosh closed::

::quick look around::  
“What? Even Spock can have a little trouble.”

*melodious*  
“If you say so, Captain. If you say so.”

::business resumes as usual, minus one science officer::

*>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*

~end of alpha shift~

::footsteps hurry through a corridor, not slowing down as they approach a door, long familiarity guiding them::

“Hey Spock, I just wanted…”  
::startled pause::  
“Spock, are you pacing?”

‘I will not scratch I will not scratch I will not scratch IwillnotscratchIwillnotscratchIwillnotscratchIwillnotscratchIwillnotscratchJim… Huh?’

::abrupt standstill::  
“Captain, to what do I owe this visit?”  
::unconscious scratch::

*contemplative*  
“Well, let’s see. There’s your behaviour on the bridge. And what about the way you’re acting now? Spock, you were pacing! You never pace. And you didn’t notice my entrance. What is it, are you sick? Smelled any unusual flowers? Touched some virus-contaminated goods or…”  
::suspicious pause::  
“or misplaced your calendar and just forgot about certain septennial events cropping up?”

::loaded silence::

“That’s it, isn’t it, Spock? That seven year itch of yours reared its ugly head and you never mentioned it?”

::aborted scratch::  
::blush from ear tips has spread to encompass entire face::  
“Not… exactly, Captain. It is… difficult to explain.”

*exasperated*  
“What could be difficult about it? Spock, we covered this before. Just tell me and I’ll figure out a way to do what’s necessary.”  
*slightly hurt*  
“I thought we were past this, Spock. That we were the kind of friends for whom even the hard subjects weren’t taboo anymore. I guess I was wrong.”

::hands reaching towards the captain::  
“Jim, no! It is not… that. I would inform you well in advance of… that. It is something… that happened while I was on Vulcan last week.”

“What?”  
::saucy grin::  
“Are you telling me you picked up some Vulcan STD?”  
::smirk::  
“I’d recommend a little visit to Bones, then. He probably has just the thing.”  
::soft chuckle::

::offended eyebrow takes flight, nearly elevating its master from the ground::  
::another aborted scratch::  
“I am certain you are well versed in Doctor McCoy’s treatments for that particular ailment. However, my discomfort was not caused by sexual acts.”

“Oh heck, Spock, I was just teasing you. I don’t generally need Bones’ help after shore leave.”  
*contemplative*  
“Although there was that one time with that Bajoran, that Tellarite and that Harshime…”  
::dismissive wave of hand::  
“Anyway, back to the problem at hand. If it isn’t a disease or a natural function of your body, then what is it?”

“A mosquito bite.”

::Jim’s jaw drops, Spock carefully studies Jim’s choices for breakfast::

“A…”

::splutter-choke-cough::  
“A mosquito bite? All this for an itty bitty tiny insect? I didn’t even think Vulcans could get bitten. Or that they had mosquitoes on Vulcan!”

“Jim… this is no ordinary Terran mosquito. The Hash-tor’lok has a wingspan of 20 to 25 centimetres. Its sting is quite poisonous to humans and causes a Vulcan great discomfort, both physical and psychic.”

::frown::  
“Psychic?”

*embarrassed*  
“It induces a need to be connected with foreign bioelectrical emanations. When denied, the sensation in the sting becomes quite… prickly.”

“Hence the scratching. So, why didn’t you go see Bones anyway? I’m sure he has something to counter the venom.”

“Unfortunately, all drugs known to counter the poison cause severe side effects, some are even lethal. Allowing the toxin to exit the body naturally is the recommended treatment. Physical exercise accelerates the process.”

“Riiiight. The pacing.”

::confirming nod::

“But what about something to treat the symptoms? My mom used to slather me with aloe vera whenever I got stung. Which was pretty often. And I know for a fact that you’re not allergic to the substance, ‘cause I’ve seen you use my hand cream on occasion and it’s one of the main components.”

::disproportional show of embarrassment::  
“Forgive me. I may have mistakenly used the wrong ointment. I will of course recompense any…”

::raises hands::  
“Spock, hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Feel free to use any of my stuff. As they used to say in old Mexico: Mi hand cream es su hand cream and all that. I meant that maybe it would help a little. At least it couldn’t hurt. I just happen to have a bottle of the stuff in my nightstand.”

*mystified*  
“I was not aware there were any stinging insects free on the ship.”

*embarrassed*  
“You can also use it to soothe sunburn and it’s quite, uh… slippery.”  
::quick straightening::  
“Hang on, I’ll go get it.”

::doors whoosh shut behind retreating figure::

*>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*

::doors swoosh open again::

::triumphant hand thrust out::

“Found it!”

::small bow::  
“Indeed. Thank you for your care, Jim. I shall endeavour to alleviate the physical symptoms with the ointment.”

::pregnant pause::

“Jim? The bottle?”

::uncomfortable shuffle::  
“Uhm, Spock… I thought… that is, I wanted…”  
::tapers off into silence::  
“Okay, let’s try this again. You said the bite caused physical and psychic discomfort. Could I perhaps help with the psychic problem as well?”

::Vulcan cheeks start blazing a bright apple green::  
“I do not believe you would wish to. It involves introducing foreign bio-electrical energy at the site of the bite… as you may recall.”

::blink-blink::  
“Uhm. I know I’m not a scientist, but isn’t bio-electrical energy naturally generated by the human body?”

“Correct.”

“So… basically I would have to rub your bite?”

::tiny nod::

::grip tightens on the aloe vera bottle::  
“Fine. Let’s combine the two. Drop your pants, Spock.”

*bewildered*  
“Jim?!”

“I’ll rub the ointment in myself. Catch two green-blooded mosquitoes in one fell blow, so to speak.”

“I do not believe this to be appropriate, Captain.”

::perceivable nod at the use of the title::  
“Call me Jim, Spock. And it is appropriate for friends to do whatever they can to help one another. You’d do the same for me.”  
::couple of steps closer::  
“C’mon Spock, concede to the logic of the situation. You’re uncomfortable. I can help. You’ll be back to top efficiency in no time.”

::pause::  
::longer pause::

“Very well.”

::sound of fastener opening, rustle of fabric::

::stare::  
“My, Spock. What a large… bite.”  
::knees hit deck::

“Are you certain, Jim?”  
::looks down::  
“I do not wish to cause you discomfort, physically or… morally.”

::chuckle::  
“Don’t worry, Spock. You’d be surprised how hard it is to make me uncomfortable. Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

::rub rub rub::

::elevated eyebrow::  
“Show, Jim?”

::chuckle:: “Ya gotta admit, Spock, it’s quite the display.”

::rub rub rub::

“Indeed.”  
*subvocally*  
“Ah, that feels good.”

::rub rub rub::  
::rub rub::  
::rub::  
::ruuub::  
::ruuub::  
::stroke::  
::stroooke::

“Ah, Jim, the treatment seems to have been a success. You may cease now.”

“Why, Spock.”  
::smirks upwards::  
“Seems you’ve got a second sting cropping up. Want me to rub it and make it better?”

::clears throat::  
“If you wish.”

“Oh, I wish, I wish.’’

::dive::

::stroke stroke stroooke lick tickle suck suck lick sluuuurp::

~ fade to black ~

*>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*

~ undetermined time later, in an officer’s bed ~

“Spock?”

“Hmmm?”

“Exactly how did something the size of a sparrow bite you in the groin? Didn’t you notice it hovering or something?”

::pause::  
::longer pause::

“I was… treating a bite.”

*>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*   *>|<*

The end

**Author's Note:**

> I took the name Hash-tor’lok out of an online Vulcan dictionary. Try looking it up ::LOL::  
> Also, the wonderful K’Chaps did hir best to keep me from making too many mistakes. I’m a hard learner. Anything icky left is my fault.


End file.
